


Before

by yourfearlessleader



Series: Before, During, and After [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Choking, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pre-Apocalypse, Prison Sex, Stream of Consciousness, Underage Sex, idk man pls just read the notes on this lol, pretty much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 12:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourfearlessleader/pseuds/yourfearlessleader
Summary: Before the apocalypse, life was making the best of a bad situation, and Klaus found that he grew up to be very good at it.





	Before

**Author's Note:**

> please be warned that this is essentially a big tl;dr of all my bits and snippets of headcanons and ideas for fics that were too short/underdeveloped for their own thing. 
> 
> it's mostly explicit content, don't read it as a coherent, cohesive fic lol
> 
> set before reginald dies, loosely chronicling klaus and diego's relationship when they were teens and how klaus progresses into adulthood

 

 

Before the apocalypse, life was making the best of a bad situation, and Klaus found that he grew up to be very good at it.

 

-

 

He finds Diego’s hand in the dark immediately, unerringly, as the panic climbs up his throat and pours ice down his back. He knows, objectively, that this is just a drill, that he isn’t in the mausoleum, that the lights will come back on eventually. Diego shakes his grip though, hackles raised, battle mode activating. He’s getting better at it, putting the mask on both literally and figuratively. Klaus sees it on him when he stands as tall as he’s able next to Luther. But in the dark of the hallway, before Diego decides the best next move, Klaus can sense his fear, loud beside him, a twin call with his own.

Klaus holds Diego’s sleeve instead, tight, not wanting to lose him as they try to get to the nearest evacuation point. He hates these drills, hates them, but he is so glad that he was with this particular brother the moment they were plunged into darkness.

They’re rounding the corridor into one that has windows when there’s a noise in the distance.

It’s not unlike their father to set something loose during a drill, so Diego stops them immediately. They slink back into the darkness, Diego’s hand bumping around, trying to find a door for them to hide behind. They both keep their eyes fixed on the illuminated patch of corridor ahead, and Klaus holds his breath, shaking with fear, until he feels like he’s going to pass out.

Diego manages to find and open a door, suddenly pulling Klaus in with him. The breath whooshes out of Klaus in relief, but its noisy and shaky and Diego’s eyes widen and he slaps a hand tight over Klaus’ mouth to quiet him. Diego is tensed, listening for any sign of incoming, any sign that they’ve been heard. But the thing is, he’s pressed very close to Klaus, trapping him against the wall so he can see outside the slightly open door, unaware of the fact that Klaus is definitely going to pass out because Diego is still cutting off his air supply.

When they don’t hear anything coming, Diego lets him go, stepping away to assess what room they’re in.

Klaus takes huge, dizzying breaths, the rush of oxygen and adrenaline and the roar of blood in his ears doubles him over. It’s somehow exhilarating and, for a moment, Klaus is mortified to realise that he’s getting hard.

 

 

After that, it becomes very easy for Klaus to begin associating fear with arousal, and in turn, arousal with pain. If Klaus had a therapist, they would attribute it to trauma, his brain a mixed up product of a mixed up situation. But Klaus is a survivor and he would say there are worse ways he could’ve turned out.

 

-

 

It starts really, with a belt, Diego’s belt, left in Klaus’ room for some reason he’s long forgotten. He wraps it around his leg at first, ties it tight high up on his thigh, watches the way he gets hard from the pressure of it, the leather on his skin, the thrill of association.

The next time, he’s got ideas from looking at porn with the weird kid down the street. He wraps his wrists as best he can, using his teeth to pull the belt securely around the bedpost. He tugs a little, feeling ridiculously light at the illusion of being helpless. Klaus often feels helpless, terrified because of it, but this way he’s still somewhat in control. He grinds his hips into the mattress and doesn’t stop until he’s coming so hard he thinks he’s going to pass out.

And then he tries it around his neck.

He knows already about the sensitivity surrounding his throat and the way it feels to have his airflow cut off. Again, he has Diego to thank for that.

Klaus ties the belt and slowly pulls it closed, tighter and tighter, pinching the skin and making his head begin to throb. He jerks off while he does it, one hand dry on his dick, that rough edge of sensation making his hips dart into it. He gasps for air, vision swimming as the belt closes even more. It’s thrilling and nauseating at the same time, his dick jumping and leaking so much over his hand. Klaus’ eyes are streaming too, as he climbs higher and higher to euphoria.

He imagines Diego coming in and catching him like this, seeing the disgust in his eyes. For a moment Klaus can feel the phantom sensation of being watched and he _burns_. He begins to shake and then he’s coming, falling over that precipice, spurting so much up his stomach that he cries out, choked off by the belt, and jerks even more, overwhelmed by the sheer dizzying pleasure of how wrong and fucked up and filthy he feels. Klaus grasps to loosen the belt with wet and shaking hands, letting the free flow of oxygen drown his brain again. He floats for a moment, suddenly outside of his body, all his cares forgotten, and it’s then that Klaus learns the taste of addiction. He looks at the belt, at what it gave him, and he wants more.

 

-

 

Klaus blames it on their bedrooms being next door to each other.

Diego is too scared of running into Dad to go find mom, or to venture any further down the hall than the room right next to his.

 

The first night, Klaus almost has a heart attack thinking that Diego is a ghost in his room. Terror grips his sleepy brain instantly, a stranglehold until Diego's voice whispers at him.

 

'It's OK, it's m-me.'

 

Diego rolls Klaus over so there's enough space for him to get under the covers. He makes Klaus face the wall, tucks himself up behind and clings like a limpet. Klaus doesn't say anything though, gets it that when you can't sleep, nighttime is the worst time.

In the morning, Diego pushes him away, already building his angry little wall back up again, and goes back to his room before mom comes to wake them.

The next time happens a week later, and then a few days after that, until they start to form a routine where Diego creeps into Klaus' bed every night, just after midnight.

 

Diego never mentions it during the day so Klaus doesn't either. They don't talk about it even when they're lying in the same single bed, almost nose to nose. Diego fixes him with his impenetrable stare and Klaus feels himself glowing under the attention. Being the middle child means that no one expects anything from Klaus and in turn, no one pays him any attention, so at night he soaks Diego up like a sponge, craving it, always terrified that he'll do something to scare him away.

 

 

Things change really when Klaus sets fire to his bed. Anarchy is the flavour of the month, and Klaus has found that he rather likes the taste. He jumps on the mattress as it begins to burn, flames licking at his legs, manic and just a little buzzed off the booze he managed to steal. 

At this point Dad has finally given up on him, and even though the nights in the mausoleum have stopped, Klaus still feels the slow drop of abandonment like mud off a pig's back. At 15 years old, he doesn't have the self awareness to understand why he starts to act out, he just does it, pitching in feet first.

 

Mom makes up his bedding on the floor, using the spare sheets everybody hates. He lies awake, restless, the acrid tang of his charred bed fills the room and his skin crawls beneath the itchy covers.

Diego taps on their shared wall just after midnight, very softly as not wake anybody else, but Klaus never bothered to pay enough attention to remember Morse code so he gets up and makes his way into Diego's room instead.

 

Diego's room smells a lot like mom, it's a lot neater than Klaus', and his bed doesn't have that rumpled, well used softness that Klaus' used to. Diego looks put out but secretly relieved at Klaus' presence. He seems unsure about what to do now that Klaus is here though, toying with his bedsheet. He's on the verge of saying something and Klaus can't have that, if they talk it's over and Klaus can't fuck up and lose Diego too. He goes to the bed and this time it's his turn to scooch Diego over so he can get in. He faces away from Diego, reaching back to grab his brother's hand and pull it across himself. Diego stiffens for a moment and Klaus is petrified, but he settles and clutches Klaus to him, resting his nose into it's usual spot at the back of Klaus' neck, and Klaus breathes a sigh of relief.

 

He wakes up because the bed is moving slightly, jogging him enough to rouse him from sleep. The light in the room tells him day has broken but it’s still early enough that mom won’t come to wake them yet.

 

'Diego?' Klaus whispers groggily.

 

He tries to roll over but he's stopped by a firm hand on his back.

 

'Don't,' comes the reply in a strained voice. Diego's breathing is short, ragged, and Klaus figures out what he's doing to shake the bed. He’s wide awake instantly.

 

'Are you-?'

 

' _Don't_.'

 

Klaus stays absolutely still. His heart is racing and he listens raptly to every little noise Diego makes behind him, desperate to turn over and see.

It only takes a couple seconds of Diego panting hotly against the back of his neck for Klaus to start to get hard. He shuts his eyes and tries not to squirm, all of his nerve endings alight with fight or flight signals. This is terrifying, exhilarating, and Klaus gasps like he's been shot when Diego suddenly pulls up a bit of his pyjama shirt and comes, hot and wet, onto the bare skin of his back.

Klaus feels it sliding down, already cooling on him. He feels filthy, used, and he's achingly, blindingly hard. He can barely catch his breath.

 

'Don't tell mom,' Diego whispers suddenly, and then climbs over him, out of the bed, and darts from the door before Klaus can even think to say anything.

 

 

They still don’t talk about it, even after the recent development, Diego being nothing but civil toward Klaus during the day. And Klaus naturally assumes that their sleeping arrangement is over. He gets into the new bed and waits until his eyes are burning with the need to sleep, to see if it is really over. Every noise he hears in the house launches his heart into his mouth. The clock ticks closer to midnight and passes it. Disappointment starts to settle like a dead weight in his stomach.

And then Diego is there, letting himself into Klaus’ bedroom, padding barefoot over to Klaus’ bed. He stands beside it, meeting Klaus’ eyes in an unspoken question.

Klaus lifts the cover up and Diego gets in.

 

-

 

Diego keeps his eyes screwed tightly shut the entire time Klaus jerks him off for the first time. They’re in Klaus’ bed (shocker), and Diego didn’t even try to stop Klaus when he rolled over and slipped a hand into the front of Diego’s pyjamas. It’s like Klaus knew what Diego was there for this time, like a switch suddenly flipping after that night a week ago, and they both certainly knew that Diego wasn’t going to ask for it.

 

Klaus’ grip is steady, a little more gentle and unpracticed where he’s unused to doing it for someone else but Diego doesn’t seem to mind. Klaus doesn’t even look down to see what he’s doing, just keeps his eyes fixed on Diego’s face in the half light of dawn, watching every little twitch and movement, committing it all to memory as though he’ll be tested on it later.

 

Right before he comes, Diego’s hand flies up to his mouth, catching the sound of a high pitched moan in his throat. He tenses and his cock jumps in Klaus’ hand, and Klaus continues to stroke Diego through it, thrilling at feeling the slick wet coating his fingers. He’s hit with the urge to know what it tastes like, if Diego’s is the same as his own.

 

It’s then that Diego opens his eyes to look at his brother, with Klaus’ hand midway to his lips. Diego’s pupils widen when he sees the glistening on Klaus’ fingers, holds a sharp breath when Klaus goes for it and sucks them into his mouth.

 

‘Go on,’ Diego whispers, and Klaus moves like he didn’t know he’d been waiting for permission. He shoves the wet hand into his underwear and it barely takes a few strokes before he’s shooting off too, pressing his face sideways into the pillow to muffle his keening sounds.

 

He wipes off and discards the underwear into a corner. Diego blushes at Klaus’ nudity, despite what they just did, breathing heavily as he spoons up to the back of him, his soft cock pressed against the warmth of Klaus’ skin.

Klaus nestles back into the clothed bulge and thinks, next time, before he drifts off to sleep.

 

-

 

Diego flips him on the ground, pinning a knee into Klaus’ back. Klaus grunts with the impact and wriggles under Diego’s grip. His brother is developing strength underneath his dexterity and it’s always a surprise to be reminded of that.

As it’s the middle of the day, Klaus doesn’t expect Diego to suddenly drop his entire body weight, pressing them head to toe, front to back, in a way that clearly means sparring is over. Klaus gasps from the pressure, from the way Diego is breathing him in in the quietly hungry way he usually only does at night.

They’re in the middle of the training room, in the middle of the floor where anyone could walk in and see them. Diego is also developing a boldness that makes a thrill run through Klaus, zipline hot, and he vibrates with need, his body reacting too quickly for his brain to keep up.

 

He pushes back, arching so the hot line of Diego’s dick fits against the curve of his ass.

Diego pants, close to Klaus’ ear, and they both struggle to work Klaus’ shorts down without separating too much. He’s perfectly content to rub off between Klaus’ cheeks, his sweating hands pushing them together to create a tight space to fuck into.

Klaus’ blood sings with the rush of it, dirty and desperate on the hard wooden floor. But it’s not enough. Klaus is 16 and precocious, he’s seen porn, and he and Diego have been messing around for a while, and now he wants it _in_ him.

‘Diego,’ he moans insistently against the side of his brother’s mouth, but he must’ve been louder than he thought because Diego is fixing him with _that_ look. The look that means Klaus is about to get shut up.

 

But they don’t get that far. There’s commotion coming from outside the room, a chorus of arguing siblings heading their way for afternoon training, and Diego scrambles up off Klaus like he’s been burned. This looks a lot different in the light of day, Klaus, his brother, sprawled on the ground, flushed and breathing heavily with his shorts around his legs. The intense arousal suddenly sours in shame and Klaus can taste it turn in Diego. He pulls his shorts up and tries to catch his breath as Diego makes a hasty exit through the other door before the others arrive.

 

After that, things go back to the way they were before, and Klaus’ splintered heart finally cracks.

He waits, that first night after, to see if Diego will come back like he did last time. Staying awake until the light of dawn creeps up over the room, not even caring about the semi-decapitated ghost sitting in the corner. Diego didn’t banish the ghosts, his presence just made them easier to ignore, gave Klaus something to focus on, to push the spectres away. And it’s not like Diego stopped all of Klaus’ bad behaviour either, he still acted out, was still a prancing, attention seeking brat trying to hide his pain with rebellion and frivolity.

Being with Diego just made life in the house a bit more bearable, and now that that’s stopped, Klaus honestly can’t see the point in hanging around. His heart hasn’t been in the missions since he began to realise that he didn’t make a difference like the others did, and that their father’s approval was so hard won, it wasn’t even worth trying. And the others are so wrapped up in their own adolescent turmoils that they don’t really notice when Klaus starts skipping out on training, starts leaving his bed unslept in because it’s not the same anymore, withdrawing so far into the drugs and the escapism that the road back becomes harder and harder to walk each time.

 

-

 

Diego starts wearing an earring when they’re 18. They’re slowly but surely dropping out of the Academy, reaching out to be in the big wide world where the claustrophobic disappointment of Reginald Hargreeves can’t smother them. Klaus is half in half out, spending most of his time looking for the next new high that will keep the ghosts at bay and take him out of himself for a while.

This is Diego’s last stand, last small act of rebellion before he ends up making the leap too, and while it makes him even more devastatingly handsome, Klaus gets giddy with glee every time he sees it.

 

‘And everyone said that I was the queer.’

 

‘It’s cool,’ Diego grumbles, shrugging Klaus off where he keeps trying to poke at it.

 

‘It’s in the gay ear, Diego.’

 

 

When he’s high, which is quite often these days, he’s drawn towards it, that little gold hoop all magpie shiny in one ear, calling at Klaus to come and touch it. He stops in the hallway, watching Diego pack through his open door. There’s a sense that this might be his last opportunity so he doesn’t resist the call this time.

Diego, apparently taken unaware, throws Klaus to the floor, sweeping his legs out from under him, pinning him bodily to the ground. Klaus oofs as he makes contact with the plush rug, the breath knocked out of him, and smiles in a cloudy daze at his brother's beautiful idiot face.

 

‘You’ve been practicing,’ he wheezes. ’10 out of 10 for execution.’

 

‘I could’ve killed you,’ Diego replies, and Klaus belatedly notices the knife pressed to his throat.

 

He hums, uncaring, still singleminded in his goal, and reaches a fumbling hand up to stroke Diego’s pierced earlobe. Klaus runs the pad of his finger down the soft curve, over the peach fuzz skin and shiny metal, and Diego lets out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

It’s very satisfying, to touch when you’re buzzed. Every sensation is magnified and touching Diego again is like touching static.

 

Klaus slips his fingers down carefully into the front of Diego’s shirt, pulling him closer by the collar until he can reach Diego’s ear to whisper, ‘Can I keep you?’

 

Diego smiles knowingly. ‘Casper?’

 

And then there’s the part where they should kiss, just like in the stupid movie, their faces mere inches apart, Klaus pliant and easy beneath Diego who is a reluctant coil of want. But it’s too late. They stopped doing this a long time ago and now Diego is leaving, properly, for good. Klaus feels it in his bones that Diego isn’t coming back this time. But Klaus won’t ask for it and Diego won’t take without asking so they stay there, a stalemate, until there’s a noise from somewhere in the house and the spell is broken.

Diego gets off him, hoists Klaus up from the floor, and goes to his window. He pauses to get one last look and Klaus raises his palm in goodbye, neither speaking, and then he’s gone.

 

 

Klaus finally gets his palms tattooed the following evening when he’s sky fucking high in some random’s party basement, counting the days until he gets to greet Diego with them. His brother would get the joke, a human ouija board.

 

-

 

After Ben dies, Klaus tries it for a while.

His grief is a red raw current right through his core, somehow the academy days weren’t as deeply buried as Klaus had originally thought, and he feels a sick sense of shame at not having learnt to use his powers properly. And even though he loved/loves Ben, he resents being made to feel guilty, and reaches out to him with a violently tangled knot of emotion, like the worlds shittiest life raft out to sea. He pulls and it takes a while, but eventually Klaus sees his brother again and the absolute shocking anguish of it wrenches out another fucked up high for Klaus to chase.

He starts drawing on his powers, summoning ghosts like a party trick, performing fake/real seances like he’s not ripping open fresh wounds and infecting himself with terror. The people he surrounds himself with can never see the things he conjures, the awful, awful nightmares of ex-human beings that Klaus has never gotten used to even after all these years. He dreams about them, his reality blurring with hallucinations from the drugs he takes. His life becomes a living hell and he does it for the same reason he drinks, the same reason he smokes and shoots up and takes pills and hurts himself and gets hurt when he gets fucked. At first he did those things to escape, to be freed from feeling anything other than pure oblivion. And then when he was numb, and scarred, and sick and blind to all what made him feel better before, he turned back, flinging himself headfirst into the pain and fear, the sensation of self-destruction, forcing himself to face and feel the burn of the storm he tried to bury, welcoming the raw ache of being real and absolutely petrified bitterly like an old friend.

Somewhere deep down, on a more lucid plane of existence, Klaus wants to be rescued, wants to be seen as the kid he was, desperately reaching out to be pulled up from a mausoleum floor. But deep down is a dangerous place, and even with Ben sometimes hanging over his shoulder, Klaus would much rather feel the bloom of a drug in his bloodstream or the bloom of a bruise on his skin, than acknowledge the terrifying truth that no-one will come to rescue him.

 

-

 

Klaus has his run-ins with the law a fair few times, mostly passing affairs, a one night stand here and there.

Then he goes travelling and a multiple offence in one particularly unforgiving state lands him a long time stint that he can’t manage to wheedle his way out of. He serves a sucky six months beneath the county and an even suckier four months and one week beneath a hulk of a man named Chuck. Being a prison wife obviously isn’t ideal, but Klaus figures better one cock that treats him mildly well, than a few that will try and fuck him up badly.

 

Chuck pushes Klaus roughly against the white brick wall of their shared cell after the guard has passed, digging a wet hand down the back of Klaus’ loose pants.

 

‘Mm,’ Klaus says, lips brushing the chalky paint. ‘Sure love not doing it in the bed, so much more romantic.’

 

Chuck grunts at him and smushes Klaus’ face harder into the brick. He works his dick into him, a little dryer than Klaus would like, but not the worst. Klaus squirms his hips to get comfortable, the thick length sinking in inch by toe-curling inch.

Klaus finds that there’s a lot of time for self-reflection when you’re being fucked against the wall by a man made of uncooked dough. He thinks about all the things that lead him here (which of course is a pretty short list mainly consisting of drugs), he thinks about the family-

 

‘Please don’t,’ Ben sighs coincidentally from where he’s appeared on the other side of the bars - because Klaus is newly sober and can’t 100% control when he summons ghosts, much to everyone involved’s dismay. Ben’s seen Klaus in this position more times than he can count, and still it never gets any better. Klaus gives Ben a thumbs up and a salacious wink despite himself.

 

But more often than not, he finds his thoughts drifting to Diego. Somehow over the years, Klaus has managed to create a Pavlovian response that links his brother from another mother with his dick. It should be ancient history but he still recalls the way Diego used to smell, the way he would hold Klaus in his too tight grip and say his name like he was the most important thing in the whole world.

And there it is. Klaus is getting hard now, he grinds into the stimulation he’s getting from inside, rolling his hips back harder onto Chuck. He tries to imagine it’s Diego, even though he imagines that Diego would fuck him a lot better than this.

 

‘That still a no to the old reach around there, Chuck? No friendly handshake between men?’

 

Chuck doesn’t answer, having learnt after all this time that reacting to Klaus in any way just makes him talk more. He does start to fuck him harder though, clearly chasing his own end to get it over with now that Klaus has gotten chatty.

Klaus sighs loudly and extricates a hand to jerk himself off.

 

‘Prison girls make do, eh?’

 

He tips into it, stroking roughly, moves his hips trying to get Chuck’s angle to hit him where it feels best. His toes curl when he gets the rhythm of it; closes his eyes to the idea of Diego being behind him instead, panting against his back. Diego would fold Klaus up in his arms and try to make him come without being touched. He would mouth against Klaus’ skin and fuck like it’s a competition, like everything else in their lives.

Klaus can’t get his other hand out from where his arm is trapped against the wall but he imagines next that Diego would slide a hand up his chest, wrap it around his throat and choke him.

He holds his breath as the next best thing, feels Chuck’s hips stuttering as he gets close. He wanks himself faster, trying to get the timing right because Chuck will stop as soon as he’s come.

Klaus moans, forgetting where he is, unable to help being loud, and the sound echoes through the concrete cell block. Chuck stiffens and clamps a meaty hand to Klaus’ face and oh, that’s really it. He clenches desperately, his spine molten hot and hand flying, stripping himself this side of too hard, just like Diego used to. His chest tightens and his head spins without oxygen and he comes, frantic and flying, continuing to stroke as he shakes through it. His spasming triggers Chuck, releasing Klaus’ mouth to grip both hips and empty himself with a deep grunt.

Klaus gasps for air, endorphins rushing, increasing the high and making his cock jerk through another mini orgasm. He looks down at his cock smeared in come, feels it drip from between his legs as Chuck pulls out and leaves him against the wall. It’s almost enough to get him going again but there’s a horrible, fleeting, pang of sadness that it’s not Diego there, probably won’t ever be, and that douses Klaus’ afterglow like a big bucket of cold water.

 

-

 

So Klaus is in love with Diego. His brother, Diego.

He scrubs both hands down his face in a rare moment of self-realisation. Shit. Does it make it weird that they’re related? Because even though they’re not really related, they kinda are. They grew up together, two septuplets from the giant womb of the cosmos, and he’s surprised that he’s never really thought about it before, about the actual ramifications of his non-traditional relationship with his now estranged brother.

Klaus watches the people going by around him, wondering if any of them share their birthday, their gifts, wonders how those people were lucky enough to be brought up normally, not in love with their brothers, by parents who didn’t want to sell them the moment they were born.

Klaus subconsciously picks at the frayed skin on his thumb, leg bouncing erratically as he sits on the park bench, itching for a hit, and thinks that to be fair, right now, if he had a random baby he would probably sell it in a heartbeat too. Drugs are expensive.

 

He scans the park for the dealer he’s supposed to be meeting, trying not to look as agitated as he feels.

 

‘Fucking amateur hour over here,’ he mutters to himself. He’s going to spook the dealer with the way he’s sitting and waiting, and if he doesn’t, then the intimidating man dressed in black combat gear striding towards him definitely will.

 

‘Diego!’ Klaus welcomes when he recognises who it is, splaying his arms and legs out into a not at all forced casual pose. ‘What a coincidence.’

 

It’s funny, he thinks, he’s acting the same way he would if it was an officer who had come over. Klaus wonders if Diego would react the same way the officers did if he offered to suck his dick. Then he wonders how Diego would react if Klaus told him he loved him, and that makes him panic.

 

‘Lovely weather we’re having today.’

 

‘I need you.’

 

Klaus pauses. He’s so easy for Diego, even after all this time. ‘Oh?’

 

Diego looks out to the distance where his car is parked, waiting, then checks his watch. ‘I need to borrow you.’

 

‘Oh,’ Klaus says again, flatly. ‘What is it this time? Luther steal your stuffed panda? Put a bug in your cereal?’ He perks up. ‘Is Dad dead?’

 

‘What? No,’ Diego replies, still distractedly looking at the car.

 

Klaus sighs. That’d be the day.

 

‘Is it a ghost thing?’

 

Diego nods and Klaus sighs again, even heavier this time.

 

‘Well I’m sorry Bruce Willis, but this Hayley Joel is closed for business.’

 

‘C’mon Klaus, it’s important.’

 

‘This isn’t Mama Medium, Diego. I can’t sing Kumbaya with you and find all love and answers you’re looking for.’

 

It’s then that Klaus notices the dealer walking towards them, he leans forward eagerly, but the dealer clocks Diego, who couldn’t look more like a narc if he tried, and makes a sharp heel-point-turn into the other direction.

 

’Noooo,’ Klaus whispers after him in dismay.

 

Diego looks at his brother. ‘It’s for a case.’

 

Klaus sits back and folds his arms petulantly. ‘Yeah, well, I’m too high for that.’

 

‘We’ll get you sober then,’ he says, like it’s that simple. And he puts a hand under Klaus’ armpit to hoist him up off the bench and towards the car.

 

Klaus drags his feet, not fully understanding why he doesn’t just push Diego away and run after the dealer. He seems to be making a lot of weird choices lately.

 

-

 

In the end, Klaus doesn’t work the case with Diego. It’s too much. He bails, like he always does nowadays, slip sliding through life on an increasingly downward slope. But Klaus isn’t worried, he’s learnt to trust his natural judgement, he knows he’s flaky, knows that’s what keeps him safe. He leaves Diego, refusing to be drawn in and used by him again, blinded by a false hope of his own making, and somehow that doesn’t feel as bad as it should. Klaus has always been very good at making the best of a bad situation and he feels that it might be time to finally do the same with Diego.

 

He goes on a week long bender, not looking too closely at whether he’s actually dealing with his Diego problem or just avoiding it, burying it in a shallow grave along with all the other fucked up academy stuff. It’s glorious to feel numb again, to take and take and take until Klaus is soaring outside of his body, pure and untouchable. He ends up bouncing from rehab to relapse, the pendulum swing is always difficult to stop once it gets going. It’s not a nice existence, but Klaus reckons it’s the easiest one he’s had so far.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> god, if you made it through, I thank you <3
> 
> drop a comment if there's anything you would want to see expanded on, I physically cannot stop writing for these two


End file.
